I get up to place heavy furniture against the door—it's a futile attempt at protection against the powerful monsters that reside outside these walls, but I do what I can. My hand hurts less than it did earlier. With any luck, there was no actual break in my knuckles.
The dress bunches around my ankles, and I start tearing it off. The ties are easier to loosen than I thought, and it puddles on the ground around my ankles. Reaching up to grab my engagement gift, I tear the necklace off. When I look down, I see an odd assortment of gems. There isn’t much time to dwell before I toss it on a shelf.
While I grab a new tunic and leggings, I think of the feast earlier, and how I longed for him to touch me. Stupid. So, so stupid. He’s done nothing but prove to me how dangerous he is—and I gave myself away to be his wife.
Exhausted and defeated, I slump down onto the warm stone floor in the middle of the room, letting my tears flow freely. As I sit there, wallowing in despair, I am drawn to the small collection of herbs scattered on a nearby table.
Liana still hasn’t collected them after her long evenings spent healing my wounds from the blood-sucking creature and the giants. Their muted colors and delicate shapes seem so out of place in this dark mountain. In fact, I haven't seen a single plant used outside of the ones we brought. The only thing that grows down here is mushrooms. For a moment, my curiosity takes hold, providing a brief respite from the pain.
As a slave, I collected herbs and prepared them for medicinal use. My fingers tremble as I reach out to touch the soft, dried petals of a crimson flower. As I study the herbs more closely, an idea blossoms in my mind, almost too daring to entertain—but what other choice do I have? The only way out of my contract is death.
If I can combine these plants and their properties, perhaps I can create a poison potent enough to bring down an Enduar. If he is dead, I reason, I can find a way back to Mikal, and I will finally be free.
No ownership, only family. New beginnings.
I grab the various herbs and containers that once held healing salves. I set to work with feverish determination, my hands shaking less and less as I become absorbed in my task.
Speaking aloud protects my thoughts better than anything else I have. "Let's see… this one has a numbing effect," I mutter under my breath, crushing the leaves of a silvery plant between my fingers. The scent it releases is both sweet and sharp, like a blade hidden within a bouquet of flowers.
My heart pounds in my chest as I move on to the next herb, a fragile-looking dried vine. "This one induces drowsiness," I recall from my training. My eyes flicker over the remaining ingredients, my mind racing as I calculate the best combinations to ensure the poison's potency. I can't afford any mistakes, not when the stakes are so high.
The world outside this room fades away, leaving only the carefully measured doses and memorized recipes needed to create something deadly.
As I drop in a little water from my tub, stirring the poison's base with a wooden spoon. The liquid simmers gently, its surface shimmering with an oily sheen. It's beautiful, in a dangerous sort of way—much like the king himself.
Neither he nor Liana knew what I was capable of. They thought me simple.
As the final ingredient dissolves into the mixture, the liquid takes on a murky, greenish hue with the lightest trace of silver. Who knows how much time has passed—and it doesn’t matter. I have finished.
"Perfect," I breathe, satisfaction welling up within me. My final chance at freedom and escape is now contained within the small phial clutched in my trembling hand.
My heart hammers in my chest, adrenaline surging through me as I clutch the small phial of poison. The satisfaction of creating it is quickly overshadowed by the fear of being discovered. I listen intently to the silence around me, praying that no one will knock on the door.
But then, a crash behind me shatters the fragile quiet as the door rams into a chair. My hand tightens around the phial, and I whirl around.
"Who's there?" I demand.
"Estela," Arlet whines. "This is not what friends do, you know. They don't insult the other and then barricade them out of their rooms."
A bead of sweat trickles down my temple as I fumble to hide the phial behind a cluster of dried herbs. My heart races, and I force my face into a blank expression while I hurry to move the chair against the door.
My breath is short by the time it's out of the way. I wipe my hands on my skirts. I can still feel the residue of the poison on my fingers, a reminder of what I've done and what I must do. "Shouldn't I be the one seeking you out to apologize?"
What I had said at dinner was awful. It was a horrid thing to blame her for what happened in her and Daniel's time together.
"Yes, but they sent me to get you," she says, stepping further into the room. "Something deplorable happened." Then her gaze flicks between me, the disarray of botanicals strewn across the table, and my gown on the ground. "Is everything all right?"
Dread twists in my gut.
"Fine," I lie, swallowing hard.
"Indeed," Arlet says, raising an eyebrow. "I suppose this is more productive than running away in the middle of the night."
"Desperate times call for unusual hobbies. I tore open one of my scabs while dancing. Hence the new clothes,” gesture to the dress on the ground. I'm eager to get her attention off my work.
She wasn't an herb preparer—her time was spent weaving—but she saw her share of injuries during her time in Zlosa. "I am sorry, Arlet. So very sorry for being such a bitch.” I swallow the insults about the Enduares, knowing full and well that she is entrenched in her new life.
Her face softens, and she steps closer to me. "It's okay, Estela. I forgive you." She reaches out to touch my arm, her fingers warm against my skin. I reach over and hug her tight.